Extra: Assassination of the zombie (4)
Two days later, City H, Community A
The dim street lights shone on the small road in the forest, leaving a bunch of unbright halos, and a figure slowly ran from a distance.
Huff... Huff...
The visitor gasped and crawled into the dark alley. After a few dozen seconds, he appeared at a T-shaped intersection, with a busy road in front of him.
"Vomit~"
On the left side of the T-shaped intersection, there was a drunkard who vomited with his hands on his knees. The runner glanced at the messy vomit on the ground, frowned slightly and turned to the right.
The city is extremely lively at night, with white-haired elderly people walking their dogs, urban beauties laughing and playing, hawkers setting up stalls, and electric cars galloping by, forming a lively world.
After running three or four hundred meters, the runner came to an intersection again. Looking at the crowded traffic ahead and on the left, he hesitated a little and gave up crossing the road, choosing to continue turning right along the sidewalk.
But as he ran, he suddenly stopped and stepped on the steps and tied his shoelaces, sweeping his eyes suspiciously towards the direction he came.
For some reason, runners always feel that someone is following them these days, and this sense of peeping is everywhere.
He also sought help from his family and friends, but everyone told him in unison that this must be the illusion caused by not having a good rest.
"A few dishes, just drink like this."
"Can the other party earn back the fuel expenses after tracking you?"
"Sleep well and sleep more is better than anything else."
Recalling the jokes from friends, the runner who had nothing to find had no choice but to shake his head, get up and run again.
Inside and outside the sidewalk, several men of different heights and sizes either answered the phone, rode a bicycle, looked down at their phone and mixed in the crowd, and their direction was consistent with the runners.
With a 2-kilometer-long speed running, fewer and fewer pedestrians on the road, runners no longer have the interest to pay attention to behind them, and sweat dripped down their foreheads and nose bridges.
Inadvertently, he found that the smart watch on his wrist had lost the network signal at some point. When he looked up, the red indicator light of the security probe on the roadside was also in darkness.
The runner's body paused and quickly returned to normal. He ran to the intersection more than ten meters away at a constant speed. Following this fork for another two or three hundred meters, it was a residential area.
But just as he was about to turn, he found two figures standing straight in the middle of the fork in the road, and the bright street lights of the past had gone out.
On the quiet streets, the sound of heart pounding, the heavy gasping sound, the air seemed to solidify.
Looking back at the back and across the road, there were two people following each slowly. The runner's pupils shrank and his feet slightly pressed down to prepare to run with all his strength.
But man's calculations are not as good as God's calculations. Before he could move, someone slowly walked over in the darkness ahead, and mysterious people from other directions gradually surrounded him.
The runner knew that he could not run for the time being, so he raised his hand and put on a flower-pushing stand and shouted at the person in front of him. The other party dared to act alone, and it must be the leader of these people.
"Level 8 fist, oar."
Facing the runner's extremely unstandard level 8 punching movements and funny self-introduction, the visitor looked at his rolling eyes, chuckled and took out something and said lightly.
"Browning, Wu Chunyang."
Swish!
The man who claimed to be a roar did not delay time. He raised his hands above his head and gave a French military salute, but then he suddenly looked at the visitor, his eyes wide open.
Soon, a van drove away quickly, and there was no one on the empty and quiet road.
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Another direction of City H, Community B.
The fat old man sat in the restaurant and put a wonton in his mouth and chewed it gently, and the dough mixed with gravy exploded instantly.
Deliciousness is easy to make people feel pleasant. The old man's expression stretches out little by little, and the chopsticks fly up and down to speed up the speed.
Outside the door, three short and strong men were scattered around the exit of the community, walking quietly by the pedestrian, silently observing the other person's appearance.
On the rooftop of the postal building, more than hundreds of meters away, a person stood beside the fence, overlooking the brilliantly lit city.
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In Shanghai, a criminal investigation detachment.
The building built at the beginning of the century looked a bit old, but the glowing police badge at the main entrance filled the place with a solemn atmosphere.
In the large office, police officers ran in and out from time to time, and the phone ringing continued, and the fax machine in the aisle spit out a long document.
"Is Ji City Bureau? I am Xiao Ding from Shanghai? Have you received the joint investigation notice?"
"Yes, it's the online writer who wrote military novels."
"Okay, thank you, thank you for your hard work."
One of the police officers hung up the phone and knocked on the door and entered an office and reported urgently: "Fang Zhi, Ji City's goal was ruled out, the other party's movement trajectory, online activities and social media feedback were all normal."
"Okay, go to work."
"yes."
After Fang Yuejin asked his subordinates to go out, he turned his head to look at his old friend who was looking at the map with his back on him, and asked a question in an uncertain tone.
"I said, what's the good map? Come and sit here. Are the two reconnaissance directions you mentioned reliable? Can you find the three suspects?"
The other party turned around and showed a middle-aged man with no memory. His clothes were simple and looked very ordinary.
Hearing Fang Yuejin mention the suspect, a trace of shiny flashed out of his eyes, he quickly walked to Fang Yuejin and sat down and spoke.
"I watched the video and the scene. It's really interesting. There are traces of special training. It looks like the classical style of action. Such people are not something that ordinary law enforcement agencies can deal with."
"Classicism?"
Fang Yuejin was confused and followed his daughter to take several music tutoring classes. He only knew that music seemed to be divided into classical and modern, but he didn't know that there was such a division in the field of intelligence.
The middle-aged man nodded: "Yes, the so-called classical school is intelligence personnel before the 1980s. They are characterized by focusing on operations and neglecting intelligence.
If the target of those three suspects is indeed an online writer, the other party will not have a chance to escape. The suspect must be as soon as possible, otherwise we may be afraid that the body will be seen again.
However, there are nearly 20,000 contracted authors of Breakpoint Group, and the time for screening one by one is definitely not enough. You can only start from the two aspects of people and books and define a preliminary investigation scope.
That's why I asked Lao Fang, you first to investigate the authors who have a criminal record, and the authors of novels related to military, political and intelligence.
No matter whether the author has collected some important information unintentionally or has problems in itself, they are never allowed to do anything recklessly in our land!”
The middle-aged man's tone was firm, and his not-tall body was like a mountain at this moment.
Fang Yuejin was still a little unacceptable. Even if a certain author had a problem, he would expose himself in the novel. Isn’t this a pure fool?
"Novels require logic, but reality does not. This kind of thing has happened in the past." The middle-aged man seemed to see his doubts and responded casually, but did not elaborate on it.
At this time, another police officer ran in excitedly to report a message.
"Reported, the network security found that a contracted author at the breakpoint told his friend on the Internet that he might be monitored!"
"Name, address?"
"Zhaozi, H City."
"The subject of the novel?"
"Spy War!"
Fang Yuejin looked at each other with the middle-aged man, and knew what the other party wanted to do without having to speak. The two shouted at the same time.
Chapter completed!